


A party of six

by Ghelik



Series: The 100 Fics [7]
Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, F/M, I Don't Even Know, M/M, and fastpaced, instead i got this, this was supposed to be short, unbetad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Tales of the City of Light had reached every corner of this devastated world. A supposedly safe haven for humans. A place where civilization still existed. A place that accepted everyone.Bellamy should have known there was something fishy about all those Utopian tales. The world is never so straightforward.





	1. The City of Light

It was a party of six: Miller, Monty, Jasper, Octavia, Lincoln and Bellamy. The had set up being ten, but had lost Harper and Monroe to a raging group of cannibals three hundred miles ago; Sterling had fallen to his death while scavenging in one of the empty buildings of a city Bellamy couldn’t remember the name of and only God knows where Murphy had decided to cut loose of them – but Murphy was like some stray that would randomly show up, stay with them, anger everyone and then leave. They had just stopped trying to track him down. Also he was mad as a bag of cats, so there was really no reason behind whatever the hell he did. Bellamy was most definitively not happy with it: he liked having everyone accounted for and Murphy seemed to have a knack on getting himself captured and tortured by whomever crossed paths with him. Which meant that, whenever he left, a part of Bellamy was constantly worrying. Which was a waste of time and energy according to everyone else.   
Bellamy had always worried. He knew Monty and Jasper called him dad behind his back – mostly because, the longer they travelled together the more often the “behind his back” turned into “to his face”. Miller found it hilarious – as did Lincoln – and he wasn’t sure about Octavia, but it was very probable that she was secretly feeding into that trend. As long as they followed his lead, he would not complain about it.   
There were plenty of things to complain about: how he couldn’t get a full-nights sleep, or how he was always hungry, how the fucking zombies seemed to find them no matter where they hid, how there were other humans waiting constantly to fall on them and pick them off. How they couldn’t seem to find a safe place anywhere. He’d had dreams, once upon a time. He’d wanted to become a professor. He wanted to finally meet with this girl he’d been flirting online for half a year. He wanted to see his sister finish school. He wanted to go to his sister’s wedding. See her have children of her own and spoil them rotten. You know: normal stuff.   
None of those mattered anymore, because he was shooting the last of his ammo at the head of a fucking zombie while trying very hard to keep al six of his party members in sight at all times.   
The horde had come out of nowhere and seemed to grow bigger instead of smaller.   
\- We need to get out of here!- shouted Jasper, his voice shrill over the growling and screaming of the monsters.   
\- No shit, Sherlock – that was Octavia, who always was rude in the face of stress. He should have taught her better, probably should have been a better role model himself.  
His clip clicked, empty and he grabbed the barrel and slammed the muzzle into the monster’s head. Octavia swung her make-shift sword over her head and into the throat of another monster. Lincoln was the one who taught her how to use a sword – Bellamy still wasn’t sure how he felt about the tall, stoic warrior that had caught his sister’s eye. For once he would’ve liked it if his sister would go out with someone he could actually beat if he ever hurt her. On the other hand a giant of a man was a far better option to have around in a zombie apocalypse.   
He saw the big man fall, momentarily destabilised by the swing of his own sword, and rushed to the horde quickly falling on him.   
Al six of them were impervious to the virus that turned people into zombies, but that didn’t mean they were also impervious to being killed by enough mouths tearing into ones body. Using his rifle as a bat he swatted the monsters out of the way. Lincoln clawed his way back up and threw a grateful smile at Bellamy, unsheathing one of the multitude of wicked-looking knives he carried strapped around his body.   
And that’s when the screeching started.   
It was a high-pitched, very, very loud and very, very unpleasant noise. He could feel it in his teeth and vibrating in his chest. The monsters seemed confused, turning this and that way, not attacking, but clawing at their own heads. Some started running away.   
\- Get down!- someone shouted over the screeching noise.   
\- Hit the deck!- shouted Bellamy to his people.  
As one they all fell down. The blast disintegrated every one of the zombies that hadn’t run away, or hadn’t managed to stumble far enough. The screeching faded a little and his party was suddenly greeted by a very nice smiling face and a fully functioning jeep.   
\- Hey suckers!- the girl hanging off the drivers door with a bright smile waved.- You need a ride?   
The party huddled around Bellamy, looking at him for a decision.   
\- A ride where?   
\- To the City of Light- smiled the stranger.- Weren’t you on your way there?   
Bellamy blinked. Everyone had heard of the City of Light: a place where civilization hadn’t fallen. A place with walls thick enough to hold off the zombie hordes. Everyone was welcomed into the City of Light, or that was the theory of it. Bellamy had never encountered someone that had been there. Stories went that if you entered, you never walked back out. Whether that was because you couldn’t or wouldn’t was something no one could answer.   
\- Come on, I don’t have all day!  
He looked around: Miller had a cut on his shoulder that probably needed stitches, Monty looked ragged and feverish. Octavia was rocking slowly back and forth. Jasper was constantly wearing his silly goggles and even Lincoln looked worse to wear. They needed a place to rest, to resupply, get more ammo and more food. A civilized city promised a civilized sleeping arrangement. He nodded and the party exploded into movement. He doubted a moment.   
\- What? – asked Octavia, already climbing into the back of the jeep.   
\- What if Murphy tries to find us?   
The whole group blinked at him.   
\- You seriously thinking about fucking Murphy right now?- Jasper laughed at that but he was laughing at practically everything nowadays, too tired and worn to make sense of nearly anything.   
\- He always finds us.   
\- Yeah,- said Octavia- so he will find us in the City of Light. That guy is unpredictable.   
She was right, of course she was. The important people were all inside the Jeep already. He made his way over and into the co-pilot seat next to the girl.   
\- Name’s Raven- she told them as she started the roaring engine and made a definitively illegal U Turn.   
\- Where did you learn to drive? – was the only thing Bellamy could think to answer.   
Raven threw him an amused look.  
\- End of the world Driving School. It has a really cool program by the Academy of Not Dying.- she veered hard to the right, throwing them all against the jeeps doors.- You should check it out.   
\- No way- laughed Octavia leaning forward so that her forearms rested against the backrest of their seats. She was sitting on Lincolns lap. Monty was awkwardly perched onto Millers’ while Jasper looked dwarfed by Lincoln’s impressive body mass, pressed against the left door.- Bell drives like an old lady.   
\- Do not.- he growled. The heat and rumbling of the engine was making him drowsy and only the dangerous way Raven drove was keeping him awake by now.   
The girl next to him barked a laugh.   
\- So, how long have you been travelling for?   
\- Seven months- answered Miller, one of his hands against Monty’s knees, the other cradling his dark head against his chest. Monty was snoring softly.   
\- Have you all been tested?   
\- We’ve all been bitten at some point or another- said Lincoln matter of fact.- None of us has turned, so, yeah.   
Raven hummed.   
\- You’ll have to get tested anyway once we reach the city. Standard protocol.   
\- What were you doing out here?   
Raven smiled.   
\- I was testing my new and improved sound canon.- She patted the dash affectionately. – This mission might or might not have been sanctioned, so you might or might not find a lot of frowny faces once we get there. Try not to mess with Pike and you should be fine.   
The city appeared as a massive wall stretching infinitely in all directions. It was a very ugly wall: grey, massive, with spikes running all the way around the top and a small metallic door that turned out to be three feet thick. One thing was sure: no one unwanted was getting into that fortress anytime soon. Raven was right: they did get a very frown-full reception. A squared man welcomed them with crossed arms and a very opinionated discourse that Bellamy found oddly fitting. Raven listened to the scolding with a scoff and then said:   
\- The cannon works. You’re welcome. – and limped away.   
The square man turned his unhappy face at them.   
\- What’s this!  
\- Strays!- shouted Raven over her shoulder without looking back.   
\- I’m Bellamy. These are Octavia, Lincoln, Monty, Miller and Jasper.   
The square man looked them up and down, grabbed the walkie hanging from his belt and called the med-team.   
\- You’ll need to be tested before you can go into the city proper.   
Bellamy nodded.   
\- Of course.   
Not even five minutes later the med-team arrived. They wore hazmat suits and herded them into the back of a smaller more uncomfortable windowless vehicle. The front of the vehicle was separated from the back by a thin metal sheet with a tiny covered window. Bellamy was starting to have a very bad feeling about it.   
\- What is that smell?- asked Jasper scrunching his nose.   
It took him a moment to notice that Octavia was slumped against a very drowsy looking Lincoln. He lunged to her pressing his fingers against her pulse point. The world was swimming around him. His sister’s skin felt strange under his fingers. Jasper fell from his seat like a stone.   
\- What are you doing to us!- shouted Bellamy turning towards the front. Everything looked distorted, the edges disappearing into darkness. He banged against the metal wall.- Let us out of here!   
He wanted to kick the wall, but his muscles were spasming. He couldn’t breathe. He Desperately he grasped for his sister. He was falling. He couldn’t see. Where was his sister! A gigantic hand dragged his arm up and he felt his sister’s tiny hand against his fingers. It took way more concentration than it ought to close his fingers around hers.


	2. The white room

When he came to he was laying on his back in an oddly sterile room. It had been very long since he had last seen a completely white place. It looked oddly artificial and dangerous. He tried to sit up, but he was restrained around the arms, chest and legs and neck.   
Bellamy closed his eyes counting slowly from ten down. Opened his eyes again and looked around. He was alone. The room was small, there was a door and a life-support machine taped to his arm, small transparent tubes wound their way into the crook of his elbow and back out.  
He tested the bonds and got a slight shock for his troubles. The door buzzed open, if he twisted his head just right he could see it through the corner of his eye. An older woman entered, her hair pulled back in a tern ponytail, a white lab-coat swishing around her thighs.   
\- Where are my people?- he growled at her.   
The woman looked up, one eyebrow crawling up, like hearing him talk was the most unexpected thing in the world. She made a humming noise and started checking the life-support machines that beeped happily next to him  
\- Hey!- he tried raising his head, but got shocked again.   
Cold dread was coiling in his stomach. They shouldn’t have come. They should’ve taken their chances with the infected and the mad people running around on the remains of the destroyed world.   
The woman turned to him and shone a bright light into his eyes, prodded his mouth open and looked into both his ears.   
\- Aren’t you going to tell him where he is or what you’re doing to him?   
The woman tensed visibly. Bellamy couldn’t see who had spoken, since the woman’s body filling most of his visual field hid her.   
\- What are you doing here, Clarke?- sighted the woman.   
\- Jaha’s looking for you.   
She turned her back on Bellamy.   
\- You’re not cleared to be down here and you know it. Who let you in.   
Silence. The woman took a very deep breath through the nose.   
\- All right then. Come on.   
\- Hey! Wait! What have you done to my people!  
The second voice – Clakre- was the one to answer, her voice dry:   
\- They’re safe. They passed the de-contamination test and the immunity test.   
Bellamy felt himself relaxing, his muscles uncoiling.   
\- Come on.- said the woman pushing Clarke out of the room before Bellamy could get a good look at her.   
\- Unfortunately you haven’t.  
The door clanged shut behind them.   
Bellamy remained motionless for ten painful heartbeats. What did she mean he hadn’t? This couldn’t be right. He wasn’t infected. He had been bitten over eight months ago, when the spread wasn’t even that known. Back then he had thought it would be rabies, but it wasn’t. One of his flings had bitten him and then, three days later had been offed by a police officer as she tried to tear the limbs of a small child. The child had been infected nearly instantly and the police officer had killed him too. He had been deadly afraid to turn into that thing that had been his fling, but time passed, the infection spread and he still had no signs of being infected. He had met other people that were immune. They banded together and wandered, fleeing from the zombies and from the monsters these zombies left in their wake. What did it mean now that he wasn’t cleared? Of fucking course he was immune!   
He shouted for them to look again, he trashed and pulled on his restrains, headless of the mild shocks he got every time. Until one of those shocks wasn’t mild anymore and he was plunged into darkness. 

He woke feeling dizzy and sore to a sound of soft humming. When he opened his eyes he was greeted by a young pale face and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Pale blond hair pulled back into a business-like braid.   
\- Oh, you’re awake.   
He recognised the voice.   
\- You’re Clarke.   
She gave him a tight smile.   
\- Here, let me help you.   
She undid the strap around his throat and helped his head up, putting a cup to his lips. Whatever was in there didn’t taste like any water he’d ever drunk before: it was cool and tasteless and he missed it as soon as she put the empty cup away.   
\- I am sorry about my mum. She forget, sometimes.   
He narrowed his eyes at her.   
\- What does she forget?   
\- That you’re actually doing us a great service.   
Bellamy swallowed the thick lump in his throat.   
\- I am immune to the virus.   
She nodded her head. The way she kept playing with his hair was starting to get really distracting and he wanted to twist his head out of her grasp, but he could hardly move and the memory of the shocks was enough to make him lie still.   
\- I know.   
\- Then why…  
She pressed her lips together, her fingers fisting nearly painfully in his hair.  
\- It’s the prize for entering the City of Light- her voice was thick.- One life of each party. You were the most obvious choice, seeing as you were the one keeping them together.  
Bellamy’s body started to shake without his permission. He tried to come up with something to say to that, but his brain seemed to have entered in a loop of denial and the only thing it seemed able to produce was a constant string of “no”.   
No. He wasn’t dying here.  
No. This was not how his life ended.   
No. He wasn’t going to let them.   
No.   
No.  
NO!  
The blonde looked over her shoulder.   
\- I need to go.   
And before he could react the throat restraint was back in place and she was hurrying out of the white room. 

For lack of anything better to do Bellamy slept. His body was sore of laying constantly in the same position and his back ached where it rubbed against the bedding. The constant beeping turned from extremely annoying to background noise and back. Thank God he had always been able to sleep with the lights on, or he would’ve gone insane.   
Sometimes, between the waking and the sleeping moments he saw Clarke’s mum with her severe ponytail and white lab-coat. She never talked to him and if he talked she would either sedate him or gag him. Bellamy hadn’t decided which he liked less: the gag was humiliating beyond anything he’d ever experienced. The sedative left a terrible aftertaste in the back of his throat and a mean headache.   
Sometimes when he woke Clarke was there. She would stay for a few minutes, always bring the cup to his lips and talk softly. She reported of his parties whereabouts, how his sister and friends where doing. They kept asking questions about him. Apparently they didn’t buy the story that he wasn’t responding to the tests. That they kept coming back negative. His sister wanted to come see him, but they kept telling her that was a security risk.  
\- She’s quite the spit-fire- Clarke smiled at him with that tight smile that never reached her eyes.   
Bellamy still didn’t know exactly what they were doing to him or why Clarke kept coming. She sometimes brought morsels to eat which she fed him patiently. It was strangely intimate and weirdly humbling. He didn’t care for either of those feelings. For all he knew Clarke was here only to placate him. She probably didn’t have anything better to do.   
Yet she was the only relieve of a constant of nothingness and strange medical tests and probably the only thing keeping his sanity intact. 

Bellamy lost track of the days. He didn’t know how long he’d been laying on his back for. He was loosing time, days and nights had no distinctive turning point. He was tired. Not like before, where he’d been worn and sore, but just bone tired. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.   
When Clarke talked about his sister he had a hard time remembering her face.   
When the doc in the ponytail came he didn’t try to speak anymore. He just turned his face the other way and ignored her completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading


	3. The Grand Escape

The first thing he noticed was the silence. For a moment he didn’t really comprehend what had changed. Then it dawned on him: the constant beeping had vanished. His ears rushed with the lack of sound. He opened his eyes to complete darkness. He tried his restraints they all gave with soft metallic clicks. He rolled out of the cot and promptly fell on his face. The floor was cool against his skin, the air stung his sore back. He took a deep breath of the disinfectant-smelling floor and stood up. His legs shock terribly and each step sent jarring pain all the way up to the base of his skull. He tried the door. It opened without any sort of problem.   
His hands trembled.   
The corridor was long and dark, he plunged in, keeping his shoulder braced against the wall and his hands extended in front of him. Somewhere a siren wailed. The sudden static in his ear nearly gave him a heart attack.   
\- Hey, handsome- smiled a voice in his ear.- You remember me?   
\- No.   
\- Rude. I’m Raven. I brought you here.   
He remembered the limping girl in the jeep. She had saved their lives and then brought them here.   
She was the reason why he’d been strapped to that bed for god knows how long. Anger burned through his tiredness leaving him humming with energy.   
\- Yeah- said Raven in his ear.- I can understand that you’re pissed. But if you don’t wanna end up where you started I suggest you listen to me for a while.   
He was mute with rage.   
\- Bellamy?   
That was Clarke’s voice and he understood now why she’d been coming to him, why she’d been so good to him while everyone else was just plain awful: her voice alone was enough to soothe some control back into him.   
Which in turn made him angry again.   
\- Bellamy I need you to keep walking. Ok? I promise we’re trying to get you out of there, but in a minute that floor will be flooded with guards. You need to move.   
He still didn’t.   
Why should he trust these two? The first one was the reason he was in deep shit and the second one had been slowly buying his trust, one morsel at a time.   
\- Bellamy, please.   
He started walking again. No matter how manipulative they’d been, there was no way he was going back into that room.   
The voices in his ear kept telling him where to turn and how long to walk for. It was a maze. He would’ve never made it if it weren’t for them.   
\- Ok. Roan’s waiting for you just beyond that door. Just go into the car with him and he’ll bring you to your sister.  
Bellamy shouldered the door open and there was a car, the passenger door open and a very big man looking at him down a very big nose.   
\- Come on- he hissed at him.   
Bellamy stumbled out of the building and into the car. The door wasn’t even properly closed when the vehicle jumped into movement.   
Every muscle in his body was shaking as he slumped against the door and eyed the stranger warily. He had never been one to trust easily and he was putting way too much faith into people who had done nothing but lie and deceive him. He had the sinking feeling that this was about to explode in his face.   
The big dude with the big nose kept looking sideways at him.   
They wound their way through increasing traffic. Buildings started appearing left and right and in front of them. It was weird being back in a functional city after spending so much time wading through the wilderness and the ruins of cities. This looked like some sort of cobbled together ghost of the past: modern and old buildings rebuilt from ruins, makeshift houses and stores on the sides. You could see all the repurposed materials and you could see that they did actually make pretty decent housings. There was traffic – not much, but enough for there to be traffic lights and police officers controlling the flow of people and cars. And there were so many people. It felt claustrophobic.   
After what felt like hours Roan turned the car into an underground parking lot and stepped out. He waited patiently for Bellamy to claw his way out of the car and step beside him before calling an elevator. They stepped out on the second floor: a carpeted corridor extending on both directions, with neat brown doors on both sides. There was an emergency exit at both ends and next to the elevator a door leading into a dark staircase. Roan opened the door marked with a shiny golden 21.  
The flat was baffling in how normal it was: a narrow corridor ended in a living-room/dining-room. On the right two doors on the left the door to the kitchen and a tiny dark bathroom.   
\- Honey, I’m home!- called Roan marching purposefully into the living-room.   
Bellamy stayed where he was for a beat. Then he forced one foot in front of the other until he reached the living-room/dining-room and stared for a while.   
It wasn’t your ordinary living-room/dining-room, it looked more like an operation-centre, with maps tapped to the walls, and strewn over the tables, rolled into corners, there were computers cobbled together from different mismatching parts, screens that flickered and bathed the room in an eerie white-blue light. The black-painted windows where covered by heavy dark curtains, no light from outside filtering through.   
He recognised Raven- sitting cross-legged on the floor, a complicated looking brace around one of her legs. Roan had sat himself behind her on a chair, so that her back rested against his shins. Clarke was pacing in front of the monitors, checking the flowing numbers.   
\- So- he growled- where’s my sister?   
Both girls started and turned to look at him like he was a ghost.   
Clarke took him in and then turned towards Roan.   
\- What’s he doing here?   
Roan leaned back, a beer in his hand. In this pale light Bellamy noticed the raised half-moon scars on his temples, framing his eyes and shuddered. He had heard of clans that used scarification to distinguish themselves from other scavenger-groups.   
\- Roadblock on the fifth. I thought I better not loose your pet-project.   
Clarke bristled visibly. With the light of the monitors at her back her golden hair looked like and halo or a glowing crown.   
Bellamy pushed those thoughts back and off his head. He wasn’t about to wax poetic about a girl he knew nothing about and that probably had an agenda that did most definitively not align with his.   
She was beautiful, though. That he could admit.   
She pressed her lips together.   
\- Don’t be mad with Roan- chided Raven from the floor without looking up from whatever she was tinkering with- Better here than back there.   
Bellamy could practically see Clarke counting to ten in her mind before turning towards him, a kind smile that didn’t reach her eyes on her lips.   
\- I am sorry for the mix up. Roan was supposed to take you to your sister. But it gets gradually more difficult, since they track car-patterns with the security cameras. I promise I will take you to your sister.   
Bellamy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.  
\- What do you want from me?   
Clarke cocked her head like a curious bird. He was not fooled.  
\- I am guessing you don’t spring everyone free or they would’ve caught you already. So, what do you want from me? Why did you help me?  
She took a deep breath. There was something in her eyes, something cornered and vulnerable, she fidgeted with a small rectangle: a phone from back before the world went to hell. Opened her mouth. Closed it again.   
Squared her shoulders and shut off. All movement ceased, her eyes shone a tad lighter.  
\- If you’d prefer, I can arrange for you to go back.- she had not heard that tone before and it bothered him how much he preferred the softer, kinder tone he was used to.- Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.   
And she turned her back to him, looking intently at the flowing numbers and random letters on the screen.   
Raven huffed, climbed to her feet and kicked the leg in the brace back and forth for a moment. She limped over to him.  
\- You look like you could use a shower and a nap.   
She opened the door to a Spartan looking room with just a cot, a small upturned box that served as bedside table, a table against the opposite wall and a very uncomfortable looking wooden chair on top of which was his backpack.   
\- Bathroom is over there- Raven pointed at the door on the other side of the corridor. – Don’t be to hard on Clarke. She’s doing the best she can.   
Bellamy frowned, but didn’t say anything. Raven nodded to herself.   
\- By the way- she threw something at him. Bellamy picked it out of the air out of reflex- I charged your phone.   
With that she limped out of the room.   
He looked down at his phone. It had been dead for nearly seven months now and he wasn’t even sure why he’d kept carrying it around. It was clunky, nearly five years old, but it worked and it had most of his conversations saved. It blinked brightly at him when he turned it on.   
He sat on the edge of the bed and opened a few apps at random. He re-read a few mails. Opened the chat application and read the last messages he’d gotten.   
The very last message was from PRINCESS IN THE TOWR:  
PRINCESS IN THE TOWR: “I’m on my last % of battery. Won’t be able to write anymore. Stay safe.”  
He’d been chatting with PRINCESS IN THE TOWR for months, ever since she accidentally texted him after getting a new phone. It had been fun and relaxing, talking to a total stranger, knowing he could always just delete the contact and be done with it.   
Bellamy had always found it difficult meeting new people. The friends he had – Miller, Jasper and Murphy – had been his friends ever since school. New people he met – Monty, Lincoln – had been brought into the circle by proxy. Miller had brought Monty over during one of their game nights:   
\- This is my boyfriend. Don’t scare him off.   
And that was that. Monty was important to Miller, so he was automatically important to Bellamy. With Lincoln Octavia had just told him:   
\- My boyfriend is picking me up. Can you open the door for him?  
And he was suddenly in the shadow of a giant, with a stern face and a shaved head.   
\- You hurt my sister and I am going to kill you- was with what he had greeted him.   
Lincoln had nodded and that was the end of that. Lincoln was welcomed into the fold. With PRINCESS IN THE TOWR it was different. She had started talking to him. She had continued to talk to him and ask him how he was doing. So he’d done the same and things had progressed from there. They kept chatting after the world ended. Right until the batteries died.   
Bellamy had once tried to write a diary, but quickly discovered that was not something he was really good at. So he just told her how his day was going and got her stories in return. Talking to her was way more satisfying than just writing everything in a notebook.  
The second to last message came from Miller  
“WHERE THE HWLLL R U!!!” – that was when they had decided to run away, escape all the crazy zombies that kept trying to feed on their brains or whatever.   
All of the previous conversations where from before and reading them brought a pang of nostalgia. Lexa’s chat was the oldest. He had sent her twenty messages after the end of the world, but she never answered any of them. The last thing she’d said glowed cheerily at him.  
LEXA: “Did you see the last episode on Project Runaway? I am shipping Andrea an Lousia so hard”  
He rushed to the next contact. Lexa had never been one to have her phone on her whenever it was necessary. He wished he knew what had happened to her. He pushed those thoughts back.  
JASPER: “Ill bring beer”   
Octavia’s was a sobbing voice message. “They’re all dead, Bell. I… I don’t understand. They just started screaming and biting. I had to slam a chair on Tony’s back to get him off Clarissa… She… there was s-s-so much b-blood.”  
Hearing his little sister so distressed – even if this message was months old still twisted something in his chest. He thought about deleting the message. Then he thought that, at least it was his sister’s voice. He hadn’t heard his sister’s voice since entering the City of Light. What if he never heard it again? He kept the voice message.  
He laid down on his stomach to ease some of the aching on his back. The phone buzzed softly with an incoming message. It was a message from eight months ago that had been floating around until he got reception again, he guessed.   
PRINCES IN THE TOWR: “Bell. I am scared.”  
The black letters looked back at him. Who knew what had happened to her in the last eight months. Who knew if she was still alive. Dying was so easy in today’s world.  
And if she was still alive, chances where that her phone was bust. That she didn’t have reception, that her battery was dead. That she didn’t even know who he was anymore.   
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He wanted to write something reassuring, but everything sounded like a lie or extremely patronizing.   
ME: “Yeah, me too.”  
He watched the words glowing on the screen for a very long moment. Then he turned the phone off to save battery, lay his head on his arms and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading


	4. The Offer

He woke up with a start. For a moment he was sure he was still in the white room. Then he opened his eyes and saw an unfamiliar floor next to the bed. There was no beeping and there was no white light. He was curled in a tight ball on a too-soft bed. His back stung. He rolled out of bed and walked over to the table. Someone had left a tray with bland food, a tall bottle of water and a coarse blue towel. His backpack rested on the chair and a preliminary inspection found his trusty axe, the makeshift machete, his clothes that someone had washed, pressed and folded, and a few of his most valuable belongings. He ate most of the food and drained the water. When he pulled a shirt and pants out of his perfectly packed backpack, he noticed that someone had tried – and failed miserably – to mend the thousand little tears and cuts on the fabric.   
The smell of detergent was intoxicating and he had a sudden pang of nostalgia for the old world. He remembered a million times he had packed a washing machine, how easy it was to have clean clothes, how boring and ordinary it had been. Now alone the notion that someone had a washing machine was a source of wonder.   
Pushing the dizzying thoughts back he picked his clothes and the blue towel up and stepped out of the room.   
In the living room Clarke was asleep on the table, her hair gold-white in the light of the screens. There was no sign of Raven or Roan. Bellamy pushed the bathroom door open with his toes. The light hummed on when he found the switch and that too was something wonderful.   
The bathroom was small and in dire need of a good scrub. The old shower looked ancient, mould growing in the small spaces between the tiles in the corners; the toilet had a Hello-Kitty toilet lid and the ridiculousness of it gave him pause. Beneath the cracked mirror, a yellowish sink.   
Pealing the shirt off his back was more painful than it ought to. When he looked over his shoulder at his back he saw a mess of white dead skin, angry red irritated patches, seeping glistening liquid on the ulcers and pustules across his shoulders and everywhere where his back had been constantly rubbing against the bedding. He shudder and decided that cleaning the wounds would be the best course of action. When he got beneath the spray, the water stung like crazy, which considerably diminished the luxury of taking a shower. He washed and felt twenty pounds lighter.  
Bellamy put the pants on and a pair of socks with more holes than cloth on them.   
He couldn’t bring himself to put the shirt on, not when he knew every movement would cause the cloth to stick the wounds and then he would have to pull it free.  
He walked silently into the living-room where Clarke was still sleeping on the table, drooling slightly over one of the maps, an old mobile phone clutched in a hand. Bellamy walked silently around the room, checking the strange pieces of tech strewn around the room, looking at the maps and random sketches doodled on the margins of some of the multitude of documents scattered over every available surface. Some things he recognized: the area surrounding the City of Light was clear in the maps and he even found some mistakes at places where the maps marked a bridge that didn’t exist anymore or a road that had been completely erased, some papers were full of technical words he couldn’t really read. There were also what he recognised as medical documents, full of doctory nonsense. He neared the monitors. One of which was constantly switching views of security cameras. Another had flowing numbers that looked like gibberish to him. There was a tiny chat window on the bottom right corner of the left-most screen. Curiosity peaked he neared the tiny screen:   
I’M_A_RACCOON: “The shipment was sent three days ago. It should’ve arrived by now.”  
SNOWKING: “It wasn’t confiscated on any checkpoints. My contact would’ve told me”  
I’M_A_RACCOON: “I can’t risk sending another shipment again. You’ll have to find it”  
FUCK_U: “h8 2 be bearer f bad news, but ur raiders hve been ambushed. Had 2 turn tail”  
SNOWKING: “Is the package safe?”  
FUCK_U_2: “The package is safe.”  
I’M_A_RACCOON: “Lay low for a few days”  
FUCK_U: “Staying with other family for a while.”   
There was another chat window, blinking slightly behind the first one. Bellamy tapped the glowing icon, and it came forward.   
I’M_A_RACCOON: “One of them is a traitor”  
I’M_A_RACCOON: “You need to get rid of it.”   
He stepped back of the screens.   
That did it. He needed to get the hell out of here.   
As silently as possible he walked out of the room and back into the one where he’d been sleeping. He straightened the bedding and upturned his backpack onto the mattress to check what he could count with: He had two pairs of cargo pants four ragged T-shirts, his leather jacket, a small sewing kit – which upon close inspection held his good needles and was in dire need of black thread. One of his hooked skin-sewing needles had found it’s way there, so he took it out and put it aside to replace it in the medical kit. The medical kit was a cracked plastic box which held half a roll of bandages, some strong tape- which had probably not been invented to hold pieces of human beings together - a strong thread and two needles, three counting the misplaced one. Other than that he had a small hygiene bag with a razor, a very old crumbly toothbrush he probably should use more often and a pair of sturdy scissors. His very old, very used copy of “Roman and Greek Legends” was there, too, and he thumbed through the pages with a small smile, the pages didn’t smell like the house he’d grown up anymore, but still, it felt like something reliable and safe. There was a pack of dried meat and three bags of tasteless rice cakes. His 9mm handgun had vanished. He picked up his leather jacket. It was a nice bomber jacket he had found it on a ride five months back and had instantly given up his hoodies for. He patted the lining in search for the small wooden box sewn into the breast. It was still there.   
He breathed a relieved sight.   
He organized all his possessions on the bed and started packing. He strapped the axe to his waist and thought about hanging the machete to his back like his sister used to do. Alone the idea of anything against his sore back was enough to give him pause.  
But he needed to get moving before Clarke woke up or Raven re-appeared.   
\- Wow. Damn, man, you’re cut.   
Too late.  
He turned towards Raven, who leaned carelessly against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.   
\- If you’re planning on seducing me, you’re totally doing something right.   
He forced some levity in his tone. He didn’t like not knowing what these girls wanted from him. He didn’t like not knowing these girls. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on around him. Bellamy had always liked control. Nothing about this situation translated in the least bit of control for him. He hated it.   
\- I thought you were with Roan.   
Raven gave him a very rude once-over.   
\- We can totally share. Are those abs real?   
He scoffed and Raven barked a very un-lady-like laugh.   
\- So. Were you planning on just running away? No thank you, no nothing.   
\- I am in this situation because of you. – he reminded her.  
Rave shock her head no, the braid swinging wildly around with the movement.   
\- Ha, ha. No. I did give you a choice. I didn’t force you onto that jeep.   
\- You didn’t tell us there was a price to pay.   
Now she frowned.   
\- How old are you? There’s always a price.   
\- You could have warned us.   
\- We did get you out of that facility, didn’t we?   
\- Why?   
Raven shrugged.   
\- Come on, you didn’t do it out of the good of your heart. You knew one of us was going to be stuck in those rooms and you didn’t say anything. What were you doing outside of the city anyway?   
\- What I was doing outside is none of your business. And, for the record, I only helped you out because Clarke asked me to.   
\- WHY!  
She stiffened and he felt automatically like a heel for shouting at her. But this was frustrating.   
\- You wanna leave so bad: nobody is stopping you. But you won’t make it three blocks without our help. You think you’re so tough, such a macho to come here demanding shit? Truth is, without me you would’ve been zombie meat.   
\- What’s happening here?  
And now Clarke was standing awkwardly by Raven’s shoulder, her cheek red and covered in creases where she had been leaning against her arm.   
\- Your pet is being difficult.   
Bellamy had to fight the urge to snarl at her.   
Clarke’s eyes landed on him for a fraction of a second, they travelled down his naked torso and he was starting to believe it had been a mistake not to put on the shirt, no matter how uncomfortable.   
\- I think I deserve to know what’s going on- he managed to say in a more subdued and civilized tone.  
\- All right.- said Clarke, turned heel and walked back into the living-room.   
\- All right? You’re just going trust this guy?   
Raven limped after the blond and, after a moment, so did Bellamy.   
\- Yes.   
\- What do we know of this guy, anyway?   
Without saying a word Clarke handed Raven a small phone in one of those cases that had been trending before the world ended, with pictures of famous paintings. The Starry Night looked back at him while Raven scrolled through the phone, the crease between her eyebrows deepening. Finally she huffed and walked away.   
\- If this explodes in your face, Clarke, I will have nothing to do with it.   
Clarke waited until the thumping footsteps had vanished down the corridor. She sat back down in the chair she had been sleeping in and pointed at the one on the other side of the table. He rested his elbows on the table so as to not hurt his back on the backrests of the chair.   
The blonde took a deep breath.   
\- This all started over two years ago. I had started medical school when my parents told me they where moving here. Back then this wasn’t a city. It was a private research facility lost in the woods. My mum had been brought here as top researcher for some sort of virulent virus. I thought they wanted to manufacture a cure. Then, a year ago, my mum called me, told me that there had been an accident and m-my d—dad- she cleared her throat- my dad had died. The head of the institution had a helicopter pick me up and flow me here. I should have noticed something was off. There were a lot of people that didn’t work here, milling around. There were a lot of buildings under construction. Not only labs, but houses and nearly finished skyscrapers. My school, as it turns out, was one of the first places to get infected. T-they used the excuse of my dad’s death to infect a campus full of kids. For a while I didn’t notice anything. Then… Well… Let’s say my mum had never been trying to find a cure. When the spread started, the facility, this City of Light, was a fully functional and independent city.  
There’s a pause. For a moment no one says anything.  
\- Do you know the reason why no one ever finds the City of Light?- she gave a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.- We’re surrounded by hordes of freshly baked zombies. The idea is to burn down the old world and then emerge from the ashes: the victors and rightful owners of this planet. The problems start with people like you: immune to the virus. People in whose blood lies the genetic information to make a vaccine. The only thing you’d need is enough blood and a lab to create it.   
In theory this virus should have no vaccine, but it has. I made one, back when I thought we were trying to safe lives. That’s when I lost my rights to go into the labs, where you were being kept. Fortunately for all of us, people keep forgetting that I am not a child. They keep me here, because that’s the only way my mum will collaborate. So… As you see…   
Bellamy passed his tongue over his teeth.   
\- What about Raven? Why did she collect us?   
\- The rovers are designed for two things: control the “infected” and collect possible “immunes”. Those are the ones that arrive at the City of Light. Most of them are not immune and get turned rather quickly and released back into the wild, where they join one of the twenty hordes that surround and protect the city. Those that, like you are, are kept for further study, to upgrade the virus and make sure it does what it was designed for.   
Raven needed to keep the cover, she needed to come back with a batch of humans. That’s why she brought you back.   
He leaned back, hissed and promptly leaned back forward, rubbing his face with his hands.   
\- And you’re what? Some sort of justice fighter?   
\- I am trying to do right by my dad. He discovered all this and tried to put an end to all of it before it started.- Clarke spread her hands in a gesture that encompassed the whole room like it was evidence.- It didn’t take.   
Bellamy thought about what she had said. It sounded like a science fiction plot – and not a very good one.   
\- And where do I come in all this?   
\- Right now you’re the only one in this city that doesn’t exist. There are no records of you: all tapes have been whipped clean, there’s not a single trace of your blood anywhere, the systems have been modified and tricked into not even noticing you. That’s thanks to Raven. Which makes you the perfect candidate to slip out of the city and retrieve a parcel that has been misplaced. The parcel and its carrier need to be back here for us to continue our work.   
\- And what makes you think I will help you?   
\- I think you’re smart enough to figure that one out on your own.   
Bellamy swallowed.  
The cards were shitty, but he had been dealt shitty cards his whole life. He squared his shoulders, straightening his spine, and giving this girl his best poker face said:  
\- I want insurance for my people. Protection. And nothing to do with this whole… rebellion. Once it’s over, no matter what all five of them get settled. Can you promise me that?   
No, she could not.   
\- I can hook your people with better jobs. If we take down the system, they will be under my protection. If we fail and get captured, there won’t be any record of them. They can claim they didn’t know anything- she paused. – And we’ll give them the escape route off this city, should they wish to escape. Can you work with that?   
\- Also, I want to see them. Make sure they’re all ok.   
She nodded.   
\- That can be arranged.   
Bellamy released a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.  
\- You have a deal.   
Her smile was small, but it did reach her eyes this time, it make them shine a beautiful aquamarine blue.   
\- Good. We’ll make preparations. There should be some breakfast in the kitchen.   
She stood up and started typing on one of the screens.   
Feeling properly dismissed Bellamy wandered over to the kitchen. Sure enough there were cold pancakes stacked near a microwave, a steaming pot of coffee and what looked like three day-old orange juice.   
He poked the pancakes with a finger. They smelled ok, even though they were ice cold and probably older than they had any right to be.  
He picked one up, folded it and bit down. It was spongy, had no sugar to speak of and was slightly undercooked in the inside and over cooked on the outside. It was – with difference – the worst pancake he had ever tried and he had eaten Octavia’s first try at pancakes when she was like five years old.   
The sink was full to the brim with dirty dishes and pans. Bellamy shuddered to think of the things that were growing in there.   
He finished his pancake and, with a sigh turned on the tab, found some dishwasher soap and a sponge and started cleaning.   
Contrary to what Octavia loved to tell everyone Bellamy did not have a dirt-phobia. He could manage dirt perfectly well, thank you very much. But there were certain places that weren’t meant to be dirty. It was unhygienic to have a dirty kitchen and it was just a sure way of getting some nasty illness and a gruesome death.   
Food had to be kept in a good environment. Plus cleaning the pile of dirty dishes was a way like any other of passing time until he could go and see his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading.


	5. The Gang

\- What on earth are you doing?  
Bellamy looked up from where he was currently unscrewing the tubing beneath the sink.  
\- I am fixing your drain. It keeps clogging.  
Clarke blinked at him.  
\- Why?  
\- Why? Because some genius hasn’t cleaned this in ages.  
\- No. I mean, I know why… What I meant was why are you cleaning that.  
He arched an eyebrow.  
\- Because until it doesn’t clog anymore I can’t finish the dishes.- his tone was a little more petulant than he intended to. But, really, it was a very silly question.  
\- And why are you doing the dishes?  
\- Well someone should do them every once in a while, princess. And since you’re too busy saving the world…  
She blinked at him.  
\- Ok. Fine. Don’t let me keep you from your productive cleaning of the pipes.  
He continued cleaning. Once he was finished with the pipes and the sink, he continued with the cupboards and the shelves, throwing away all that was expired – quite a lot, and rushing with the milk to the bathroom. While unhappily shouting how that milk had expired before the end of the world.  
\- How are you two still alive?  
\- What is your pet prattling on about?- came Raven’s unhelpful reply from the living-room.  
He couldn’t quite hear Clarke’s reply, only Raven snorting and her voice following him back into the kitchen:  
\- You must have been suffering a lot in the world outside, if you’re so concerned with cleanliness!  
Bellamy just rolled his eyes and started scrubbing the wall behind the stove. It was something to do, something other than feeling trapped in a tiny flat, surrounded by people he didn’t know, fretting over his party members. He had always been better with something to do.  
A few minutes later Roan knocked on the doorframe.  
\- Raven’s set you up. Come.  
He followed Roan. Raven sat on the floor, a laptop on her knees. Clarke was on her usual spot in front of the screens, tapping away at different windows.  
\- Ah. Bellamy- Clarke smiled up at him for a second- come over here. Meet the gang.  
The chat window was open.  
\- Raven has programmed this little thing- she produced a small rectangle that was roughly the size of his old phone, but three times thiner- for you to communicate with the team. We use code names in all our communications. No names land on paper or on anything digital. That’s important.  
\- I am not an idiot-grumbled Bellamy tapping experimentally at the paper thin devise. It lit up on a blue interface, filled with scrolling text.  
\- Could’ve fooled me- mumbled Raven, but Clarke and him decided to ignore her, so he did so, too.  
\- Ok. I set up a name for you, but you can of course change it.  
Bellamy looked down and tipped: “hi” and hit sent:  
MAD_BOUT_ALXANDRIA: hi  
He had to snort. Clarke looked extremely pleased with herself as she turned to the screen. Roan sat down behind Raven and pulled out another device just like Bellamy’s  
\- Perfect.  
I’M_A_RACCOON: hello.  
SNOWKING: hey  
FUCK_U: wat r w? Preschool??  
SNOWKING: where’s fuck-u-2?  
FUCK_U: not here.  
Clarke sighted. She wasn’t typing  
SNOWKING: ok. Mad-bout-alxandria is our new messenger. He’ll pick the packet up and bring it here. He’ll contact fuck-u or fuck-u-2. You two are still together?  
I’M_A_RACCOON: Where’s Princess? Everything alright?  
SNOWKING: Still problems with the e. I’m speaking for Princess now.  
SNOWKING: fuck-u?!  
FUCK_U: Yeah, yeah, we 2gthr for now.  
SNOWKING: I’ll drop Mad-about-alexandria and wait for you on our rendezvous point. Maintenance work will be up for 45 hours.  
SNOWKING: That is our operations window. Don’t fuck it up.  
FUCK_U: yeahyeah. Long live la resistance and shit. Gotta run.  
\- For a high level world changing operation, this looks like a college chat. Who are these people?  
Clarke’s eyebrows crawled up her brow. Her stare made him feel like a kid caught stealing from the cookie-jar.  
\- You two should go. Roan will give you the coordinates once you leave the City.  
Bellamy nodded.  
\- I’ll just pick up my stuff.  
He turned to go and heard a heavy hiss from both Raven and Clarke.  
\- Wait. Let me bandage your back first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder, can you guess the members of Clarke's gang? XD
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo.... This happened.  
> As always this has not been beta'd  
> Thank you so much for reading.


End file.
